Friday, August 12, 2011

Home Is Where the Heart Is

And where is that? I once thought I knew. Not very long ago, I was sailing round the world absolutely certain about my return to a homeport.


How quickly certainty changes. Reminds me of a most important lesson - today counts because tomorrow may eventuate as an entirely different phenomenon - unlike the present moment as dinosaurs are from humans.


The world my mind concocts is full of conspiracy, the kind that supports my view of myself in the real world. Why must I always play victim in that conspiracy? How come I can’t be the heroine just once in a while?


Default: victim!


Feeling sorry for oneself is hardly a celebratory way to live life so why not give it up? Why not choose a different tune by which to dance across the oceans into the lives of some very special Aussies.


Could it happen? Sure, to someone else! How ever would I live my life if I were the heroine?


I’d start by climbing immense mountains, not by a single bound, but step by step up cliffs with plenty of exposure, sure footed as any mountain goat.


*** 2003 ***


What a difference eight years make. Happily, the victim has been hidden away under the bed and warned not to show her face except under the most dire circumstances. The heroine is out and about in 2011, enjoying those Aussies and all their mates.